My lizards’ love
is not that wary
even scaly, is soft and airy.
Their way of love
is so darned old
just chase, grab ahold
and take control.
Atop faux green leaves
snouts almost touching
vibrant lime faces
eyes casually, lackadaisically looking
wondering what the hell I’m doing.
The crazy way they bob
up and down, dewlap a-throb
bursting red to clearly show
they’re ready for romance, and go!
Situations, I’ve seen many
on vines, entwined, still and staring
once upside down, a feat for any
reptile species, should they tarry.
Love ends and begins yet again
they’ll even choose another man
or two, with dewlaps circling round
for females they are eying now.
But in the end, love makes a thing
a tiny orb, a few she’ll bring
these fragile babies, hard to keep
I’ll love this next one,
from a crack should it peep.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022